


The Adventures of Cat Sherlock

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cat Sherlock Holmes, Comedy, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Fun, Human Sherlock, M/M, Other, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-07 15:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11626647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Sherlock's experiments go a little too far and he accidentally turns himself into a feline for a few hours. It seems as a cat he has a better insight about people he knows than as a human genius!





	1. On his way upstairs he found a cat crying at the doorstep

Sherlock was experimenting with some rare chemicals containing cat blood and other substances he had specially been gifted for his birthday by Molly Hooper and some of his other acquaintances associated with medical labs. He wanted to create something that gave humans a feline grace and sharpness of instincts. Ordinary boring people wouldn’t be too excited about it but maybe fellow geniuses like Mycroft and Moriarty might like it. 

Good way to show those two power hungry men that he was by far the most brilliant of the three of them. 

Sherlock tinkered with the final product and looked at the results, working and re-working some aspects and perfecting the formula. He was meeting Jim Moriarty tomorrow, discreetly of course, to show off his exploits so it had to be perfect. That little upstart had become even more annoying since they had faked their deaths and Moriarty had become James Brook, a perfectly law abiding citizen. Now he no longer feared the law and Mycroft had become his ally, so Sherlock got bullied by not one but two men nowadays. Perfect, just what he needed as a grotesque addition to his life. 

On top of that there were no new cases. The criminal world was sleeping it seems. Lestrade told him it was partially his fault since he had taken down so many of them and convinced Moriarty to stand down and begin a new life, but Sherlock secretly craved some anarchy and crime. Not that he would ever call that out loud though!

As he worked, he heard footsteps approach him and without even turning around he greeted his friend, flatmate and the man he had coveted for a long time, ex-army-man and doctor John Hamish Watson. “That jacket looks hideous on you so whichever girl you plan to take out on a date night will run in the opposite direction the moment they see you John. You may either want to change the jacket or change the date.” 

“Um….” John hesitated as he stared at the back of his friend’s head, “I had two tickets to the theatre and was hoping you would come along.” 

“John, theatre is nonsense.” 

“It’s not. Art imitates life.” 

“Only the boring parts of life.” 

“Sherlock, you haven’t been to the theatre in six months. How can you say that?” 

“The last one we went to, I fell asleep ten minutes into the start. So if I can’t sleep and am lacking stimulation completely, I will accompany you to the theatre and get a nice little nap there on your shoulder.” 

John rolled his eyes, “No way. You snore.” 

“And you bore. Now go and find a date while I finish this.” 

John lingered around for a little longer and left, seemingly disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm from his friend. But sensing that Sherlock was out of bounds for that evening, he turned and walked out of the flat. 

***

“Yes that’s it, success, wooohooo, yeaaaah,” Sherlock jumped up and down, doing a jig that knocked off a glass and a cup from the kitchen counter, “I have done it, I have done it, I got this correct, the felinuman syrup is ready for use!!!” He was brimming with enthusiasm and glowing with the happiness of his long-planned success, now all he desired to do was to share this with some of those he knew! Quite naturally the first person he rushed to inform was John Watson but unfortunately that very same man had been chased away an hour ago by him, hence he found an empty room upstairs. Disillusioned, he decided to call Jim and boast about it to him. 

His cheeks turned red when the call was answered. In the background he heard moans, wails, pants and the constant and steady thump of the headboard against the wall while Jim spoke in a breathless and gruff voice, “You aren’t late, you aren’t early, I’m busy now, so fuck off Sherly.”

Sherlock disconnected, crimson sprinkle on his high cheekbones as he recognized the voice of a near orgasmic man in bed. That hellcat, answering him in a poem even while he was being drilled by his sniper. Sherlock scowled as he sat alone in the sitting room of his flat, envying his once nemesis for having someone like Sebastian around all the time. He had met Sebastian, the former army colonel, big and strong, loyal and devoted, always ready to do anything Jim wanted. If only John was also like that. Well, John was loyal and devoted, he was also brave and attractive in his own way, but the man’s constant harping of ‘I am not gay’ was more than enough for Sherlock to back off. 

He hated being rejected. 

But hope never died inside him that John would one day…..

“Sherlock!” 

“Oh….” He looked up and saw the neighbourhood boy Tony who often ran some errands for him, “Tony!” 

“Yes,” Tony was carrying a pet in his arms. He set the small house cat down on the coffee table, “Here is Marcus. My girlfriend’s cat. You wanted me to bring one right?” 

Sherlock handed him twenty pounds, “Thanks Tony. Now go have pizza with your girl.” 

“Thanks Sherlock!” 

As soon as Tony was gone, Sherlock grabbed a saucer, poured some milk into it and mixed a portion of the ‘felinuman’ syrup into it. Then he grabbed the cat and tried to make it drink from the saucer. When it refused he tried to dunk its head into it to force feed it. 

“Meaaaaoowwwwggrrrrrr,” the cat snarled and jumped out of his arms and ran around the room, Sherlock chasing after it and pleading ‘Please oblige me, I need someone to experiment on, be a good kitty, oblige me for deduction’s sake….!’

The feline was having none of it and ran around the room, Sherlock hot on its tail (literally), till it found an open window and jumped out to safely land on the parapet below. Sherlock made an attempt to stop it but his foot got tangled in a small tear at the corner of the carpet (It was Sherlock who had earlier torn it in anger) and he landed face down on the saucer of milk which, moments before, he had dropped to the carpet covered ground. Since his mouth and nose got buried in the spiked milk, he ended up swallowing a big portion of it as his body’s natural reflex towards preventing the liquid from going down his windpipe. In alarm he pushed the saucer away and lay on his back, panting and wishing this hadn’t happened. 

“Meaaaoowwww.” 

Sherlock looked around. Had Marcus returned? 

Nope. There was no Marcus around. 

He wanted to say ‘Jesus Christ’ but all he heard again was ‘Meaaaowww’. 

He stood up in alarm. Where was the sound coming from…..oh no…..oh no not this…..why was everything so big suddenly….had he shrunk after consuming the spiked milk accidentally? He looked at his arms….o fuck no….fur….lots of fur…..damn he was now four legs….he ran-ran-ran till he reached the bathroom and stood before the full length mirror on the inside of the door…..and then….

“MEEEEEEAAAAAOOOOWWWWWW!” 

Sherlock screamed at the top of his voice. 

He was not him. He was now a cat. A real cat. A four-legged creature cat. With whiskers, and a tail and a cat voice. 

***

John came back home a few hours after he had gone out, slightly drunk and a little bit depressed. Another lonely evening. Another attempt failed at getting Sherlock out of the house. It seemed the man cared about nothing but cases. 

He wanted to say a good night to Sherlock on his way upstairs when he found a cat crying at the doorstep of the first floor flat. 

“Oh look at you,” John suddenly felt protective and fond of the feline, maybe it was the way it was crying softly that drew out his inner compassion towards all things cuddly, “You look lonely and hungry and abandoned. You have an owner do you? Someone who looks after you little kitty? Please don’t tell me some careless idiot adopted you and then lost you! Only a real moron would let that happen…..but don’t worry, I won’t abandon you. Now come on, come to daddy!” 

He picked up the feline in his arms and nudged open the door, “Sherlock? Look what I found outside the door…..Sherlock?” 

There was no sign of Sherlock anywhere in the room, or the whole flat, but that was nothing new to John. The eccentric detective often disappeared for long and short periods of time and didn’t tell anyone where he was off to. John took a closer look at the sitting room and sighed at the condition it had been left in. “Window open, carpet upturned, milk on the floor, things thrown about, Christ what the hell happened here?” He quickly began to pick things up and clean up, giving Sherlock a chance to climb down from his arms. But it felt so good to cling to John like that, that Sherlock stayed put and even put his arms/paws, around the good doctor’s neck. 

John giggled, “Hey hey little one, I am ticklish with all that fur….hold on, you stay here.” 

He put him down on the couch, much to Sherlock’s disappointment. Instantly Sherlock leapt down and leapt up on the kitchen table, calling out excitedly ‘John, Jawwnn, see I created a new formula’ but all that came out was ‘Meaow mew mew mew wnnaaowww’. 

“Hey hey,” John instantly grabbed him and pulled him away from there, “Don’t touch those. Wanna know why?” 

Sherlock looked at him through big green eyes. 

“For starters, they might explode. God knows what he puts in there. Then again, we are not geniuses kitty cat, hence he might not like us to even touch his things. Also, this is the most important thing in his life after his cases, we count way below in that list so stay away.” 

Sherlock froze in John’s arms. Did his friend really think that he was way down the list?” 

“No,” he began. Ended up with ‘meaowwww’. 

“I know, you are hungry,” John washed a saucer, warmed some milk and poured it. 

Sherlock winced. So stupid. Most cats are lactose intolerant, didn’t John know that? Besides, he was not in the mood to drink milk. He wanted to eat something else, like bread or an omelette or maybe some fish and chips. But the annoyance he felt melted away as John petted and stroked him while making some instant noodles for himself, murmuring soothingly to him all along. 

“You are like me, are you not kitty?” The doctor said, “Alone, nobody who really understands you, wondering where your life is going? I think I might even name you and keep you. How about Furball, no I think Gerard is a better idea, nope I think you are ‘Ace’.” 

Sherlock meaowed. Ace sounded butch! 

John went on talking. He liked the cat for some reason and had made an instant connection with it. It looked very cute too, cute and fluffy and cuddly, desirable and very pretty. Snow white with a little smattering of grey on the face and crown and ginger on the paws and tail. Maybe a color point cat. It had beautiful and innocent green eyes which reminded him of Sherlock’s eyes, while the strangely curly fur on the head, which was the darkest of all colours it carried, reminded him of his friend’s curly crown. He laughed out aloud and kissed the cat on the head, shaking his head as it stroked its coat and petted its back. It swashed its tail and meowed, then purred as if it was happier than happy. 

“John, keep up with the rubs, you are making me fall asleep, I want to sleep,” Sherlock whispered in his cat avatar. 

All that he ended up doing was meow and purr and John understood what he meant. He kept stroking the feline and eating his ramen till Sherlock had fallen into a peaceful slumber in his friend’s arms. He faintly remembered John saying ‘Why has Sherlock left his phone at home’ and ‘Jeez, his clothes and even underwear are lying here behind the couch’ and then John carrying him upstairs to his bedroom. Then he was out again. 

***

Sherlock woke up with a start. 

At first he was disoriented. He didn’t remember anything at all, not how he landed up in bed in a dark bedroom that was not his own, or why he felt ‘different’. 

Then it all came back to him. He had been experimenting, had tried to feed the concoction he had made to the tabby cat brought by Tony, accidentally swallowed some himself, then turned into a cat and John finding him weeping on the doorstep. His bearings came back to him and he realized he was in bed, John’s bed, covered by a thick towel which now barely covered parts of him since he had turned back into human in his sleep. He was also…..oh fuck fuck fuck…..he was naked. The clothes he had been wearing earlier were all downstairs and oh fuck….John was asleep next to him. 

He will never believe what had happened. He will think I am a horny desperate bitch who tried to get into his bed. 

Trembling with nerves he quickly wrapped that towel around his middle and tiptoed out of the room. It was early morning and fortunately Mrs Hudson was not awake as yet so he safely made it back to his own bedroom in two minutes. 

That was when he realized, he actually wanted to stay back in John’s bed.


	2. He is not a normal cat, he is like a Sherlock cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feline Sherlock visits his ex lover and former nemesis

There were no after-effects of the portion he had consumed. As Sherlock studied the contents, which he had carefully bottled now, he wondered if it was ready to be shared with the world. Maybe he needed to run some more experiments first and who better to run those on than himself. 

There was no change to his original anatomy, no pain or discomfiture, and if his calculations were right then he had a good twelve hours of feline existence before he turned human again. Yes, that would do!

After the incidents of the previous evening and night, he actually looked forward to becoming a feline again. If nothing else, it had helped him get closer to John Watson. He didn’t remember sitting on John’s lap and being stroked and petted as a human being but as a cat he had been lavished with attention by his flatmate. John had even taken him to bed and let him sleep there. Maybe as a cat he could also visit Mycroft, or Jim, or even Lestrade, and see what those people were like. It was a wicked and gross thing to do but well….he had never been a stickler for morality, correctness or rules. With a smug grin, he added Mrs Hudson’s name to the list as well. 

“Ra-Ra-Raaaahhh,” he went, making pointy claw like imitations with his long fingers. 

“Sherlock are you okay?” 

“Jawwn.” 

“Were you making some noises….” 

“How was the play?” 

“Didn’t watch it. Threw the tickets away. No fun watching it alone. Just had some beers at the pub and came back home earlier than I had thought.” 

So he didn’t go out for a date with some woman after all. Yes, he was right, he had been back too soon to have watched the play. Sherlock was about to ask John why he even needed a companion to go to the theatre when the sandy haired man started to look around the room. After a good minute he looked at Sherlock and said, “Um…this might sound funny….but where is the cat?” 

“The feline cat or pussy?” 

“Ewww Sherlock, since when did you acquire such a foul tongue?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I meant a real cat. It’s a ‘he’. His name is Ace.” 

“No John. As you might have noticed, we have no pets and there has never been a cat in this flat ever.” 

“You are wrong. Last night there was one, just outside the doorstep there, and I took quite a liking towards it. I named it Ace and even gave it some milk. See that saucer there! But this morning when I woke up it was gone.” 

***

Sherlock finally found an open window and sneaked into a second-floor bedroom of the plush townhouse Jim and Sebastian lived in. Belgravia, posh and exclusive, dripping money and celebrities, the sort of place a showboat like Jim would choose. It was a boon for Sherlock though, as he got into the backyard, undressed in a tool-shed, kept his clothes safe and secure in a backpack and then consumed the portion which would turn him into a feline. No thefts, robberies and intrusions here, very few people were even allowed to wander around a neighbourhood like this, so most likely his clothes wouldn’t be stolen. 

As he looked around the bedroom, he saw nobody. But he could hear strange noises from the next room. Noises that were more like….people having sex. 

Ughhh-ughhh-uhnnnnn-thump-grunt-uhnnnn again, he listened and the pattern wouldn’t change. Yes they were having sex once more! Good lord, that criminal was really insane. From constantly plotting destruction to constantly getting ploughed by his colonel lieutenant, Jim Moriarty hadn’t changed much. Well, except for the fact that he was still sexy enough for Sherlock to sometimes wonder how it might be to be in Sebastian’s place. But Sherlock was sure he wouldn’t waste time having sex like this when there were a million superior ways to stock up on adrenalin and experience a ‘high’. Jim had rusted, he sure had. 

He crept out of the room on cat paws, stealthy and soundless, taking a look at the window which had allowed him entry to this house. In human form he couldn’t have made it but as a cat it was a walk in the park. He had swung from a tree branch and landed on the sill. 

A loud grunt startled him and he hurried to the next room, peering in through the door that had been left ajar. 

Ohhhh…..not sex. It was the soldier doing push-ups with Jim sitting on his back and solving a science puzzle. Oh, double exercise, one stimulating and maintaining his brawn while the other worked his brain. Somehow it looked….sexy!

Sebastian was in spandex lowers that showed off plenty of arse and calf musculature and bare-bodied above that. His biceps and forearms were beautifully sculpted, his stomach was a network of pure muscle, his back was all rippling muscles too, in fact his entire body was carved out in a perfect imitation of those statues of Roman and Greek soldiers that Sherlock had seen on a trip to Italy and Greece. Tanned and toned, with blond hair worn short at the back and long at the front, this former soldier was quite the eye candy. 

Jim was a total contrast. Pale skin, short and waifish, without an ounce of extra fat on him, dark brilliant dreamy eyes, the cutest and most disarming smile on earth and dark hairs that he now wore slightly longer and fashionably rumpled. He looked ‘fuckable’. 

Sherlock made a mental note of investigating if his cat-self had a high sex drive. Why was he noticing things he had never noticed on those two men? 

His musings came to a grinding halt when Sebastian suddenly spotted the cat at the door and all those grunting, huffing, puffing noises stopped as the former sniper stopped his push-ups. He turned and looked at the smaller man in awe, goofy grin on his lips. Jim at first didn’t notice the cat, or Sebastian’s expression for that matter, and he continued to solve the puzzle until the lack of movement from the man below brought him to a natural realization that something had just happened. He put the puzzle away and slapped Sebastian on his bottom, frowning. “This is only three hundred two. You said you will go for three hundred and fifty this time.” 

“Jimmy babe,” Sebastian rolled over and Jim almost crashed to the floor before the larger man took him in his arms, “You got me one?” 

“Oh a new motorcycle, we will buy it next week when we…..” 

“No, a cat.” 

“Cat? What cat?” 

“There, look, what a cute little thing he is!”

Sherlock was astonished. No, he was anything but Sebastian’s pet cat. He turned tail and tried to run away but that confounded Sebastian was too quick and he was lifted clean in the air by a pair of strong and large hands and whoosh, he was swung over and landed in Jim’s lap. Jim yelped but steadied himself fast, picking the feline up in his hands. 

Sherlock enjoyed the attention. Damn, he had even felt Moriarty’s cock. It was nice and thick and he smelled good all over…..shit shit shit, why was his feline-self falling into that lust fest again. He meowed as Jim looked at him blankly, then with a frown, then pain shot through him as Jim pulled his front and hind legs in opposite directions. As a cat he was flexible but this former criminal was cruel and spared no efforts in hurting him despite that. 

His wail of pain made Sebastian snatch him away from Jim’s hands. 

“Jim, I swear to God if you brought this cat to conduct an experiment on it then….” 

“Then what?” Jim bared his teeth, “What then? Does this stupid ball of ugly fur mean more to you than me?” 

“No Jim but….” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Jim wait….” 

As Sebastian followed Jim around the house, trying to pacify him, tease him, appease him and finally cuddle him, Sherlock stayed like a scarf around Sebastian’s shoulders and watched like a hawk. He was sure he had never imagined these two dangerous men, retired criminals, a genius and a hothead, to be this sickeningly domestic and enjoying such perfect textbook romance. Sebastian was the knight in shining armour and the caregiver, Jim was a pouty prince with the tantrums and brilliance, and together they just looked so…..happy! Sherlock wondered why John and he hadn’t settled down like this, especially since he had known John a year and half before Jim had even met Seb. 

“Awww,” Sebastian had Jim in his arms now, “How can I make it up to you?” 

“Blow up Mrs Harding’s car.” 

“Our neighbour. The newsreader who is also a politician’s mistress?” 

“Yes. She spies on you with her binocs when you skinny dip in the pool at night.” 

“No Jim, we can’t blow up her car for that.” 

“She also spies on me when I’m in the shower, naked and dripping.” 

Sebastian snapped, “Okay that’s offensive. Let’s blow up the house, with the bitch inside it.” 

Jim grinned darkly, “Just her car Seb, just her car. Remember, we are now ‘no longer’ criminals and we work for corporates, governments and intelligence bureaus now. Though I have to say most of the world’s ultra-sophisticated and dangerous criminals reside in these three places. If only those ordinary and boring people knew we are doing more mischief now than before, they wouldn’t call us ‘Criminals Retired’. They would call us ‘Criminals Reloaded’ instead.” 

Sherlock hiccupped at that. “I think Oliver is hungry,” Sebastian noted, mis-reading the reaction, “I must give him something to eat. Milk, some raw fish maybe.” 

Sherlock nearly puked. Milk again? His cat stomach was lactose intolerant. Fish? Raw fish? What the hell was wrong with Moran? Hadn’t he heard the sentence ‘don’t give something to your pet unless you would be okay to eat it too’. Damn, how was he going to eat raw fish!

“Oliver?” Jim raised an eyebrow. 

“I like the name,” Sebastian said, “Now let me go and put the explosives under her car. In the meantime, be a darling and give Oliver something to eat and drink. And Jimmy, don’t experiment on him, I like him and intend to keep him here with us.” 

As soon as Sebastian had left the room and the front door opened and shut, Jim strode over to Sherlock, lifted his tail and kicked him on the rear with his bare foot. It wasn’t a particularly hard kick and even though Sherlock slid a good five metres over the smooth polished marble floor, nothing was hurt except his dignity. He snarled and snapped at Jim. 

“Attitude huh?” Jim snarled back, “Look I have no idea how you got in here but I don’t like intruders in my space. Also, you aren’t getting Sebastian. I own him. Oliver, or whoever you are, now stop gawking at me and disappear, shoo shoo shoo, just vanish or die! I am going to fix lunch for us today and surprise him. To tell you the truth, I am not a great cook and ohhhh….I am supposed to feed you too isn’t it? You sneaky little thing, if I don’t feed you, you’re gonna mewl and snarl and let Sebby know how I ill-treated you right?” 

Sherlock was sure had he been human his jaw would have dropped. This fellow was such a handful. Brilliant and pretty, very sharp and agile in the mind and body and colourful as a chameleon, but erratic and eccentric at so many levels that even a high functioning sociopath like him was left bewildered. He padded back to the kitchen, his curiosity getting the better of him, and jumped up on the kitchen table. He wanted to observe Moriarty at work in the kitchen when he saw Jim’s iPhone 7 plus, unlocked, lying next to him. 

***

“Sebby we can’t keep that thing.” 

Sebastian pulled Jim into his arms as they sat on the couch later, “But why not? It’s such a cute little ball of fur. Aren’t you the most adorable little ball of fur?” He petted Sherlock.

Jim scowled, “I am telling you there is something wrong with this thing. He is not a normal cat. He is like a Sherlock cat. As in, he reminds me of Sherlock in so many ways. Look at those curly furry dark bits on his crown, see how his ears stand up the moment I speak, those green eyes, it seems that he is always deducing me and he….he even opened a browser on my mobile and pulled up a page on ‘Ten good things to feed your housecat’.”

Sebastian looked hurt, “I thought you were over him.” 

“I was never under him. Okay maybe a few times, but I also topped.” 

“Jim, I am not kidding.” 

“Okay sorry. It was a passing fling. He wasn’t serious and neither was I. Yes, we could make great frienemies, we share the same wavelength sometimes, he understands my brilliance and I understand his genius but…..Sebastian Augustus Moran….you’re the only man for me.”

Colonel Moran grinned from ear-to-ear, picked Jim up in his arms and ran to the bedroom. 

Sherlock followed, a bit annoyed at the way Jim had called their brief affair a passing fling, but eager to see how the two criminals got it on in bed. If he was being a pervert cat, he was perfectly at peace with his catty self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock took one up the rear but not the way we would have hoped ;-)


	3. I Can't Believe I am Talking to a Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat Sherlock gets closer to John
> 
> 2 criminals get a scare of their lives
> 
> A car is blown up

Sherlock had never felt so fascinated by sex. 

He was amazed at just how flexible Jim Moriarty could be and just how dominant and powerful Sebastian Moran could be. He stood at the door and gaped through his cat eyes, cat ears and fur standing on ends. If anyone saw him then they would surely think he was an electrocuted cat. 

The two men were engaged in some serious fucking on the bed and every few minutes Sebastian made them change positions. Right now Jim was literally upside down and moaning like a slut as Sebastian mounted him like a dog would do to its bitch and held him by this throat as he pounded into him. The smell of sex was rife in the air and the sounds the two men were making, it was like watching a live sex-show or ultra-explicit porn and Sherlock squirmed as he watched Jim shoot his load and let out a howl that he had never thought the tough-as-nails former criminal could ever let out. It could wake the dead in cemeteries outside of London. Sebastian followed with a roar and emptied himself on Jim’s arse, pulling out and stroking himself through it. 

Bang-thump-bing-crash-bonkabonk-whump-clang-ping-smash-dinkadonk!

Sherlock wished he had discovered an invisibility portion as well because right now he just wanted to be ‘not seen’. He had not noticed that his cat paw had got caught in a wire and as he had moved forward in a trance like state, watching the two men create a racket as they came, he had successfully managed to dislodge an open-face cabinet on the wall and pull it down, all the items in its shelves crashing and flying everywhere. 

No stop, stop please stop, Sherlock said but of course the sounds that came out was pitiful meowing. The two men in bed jumped up in shock and disengaged and then jumped off the bed as one of the items came crashing at them and landed on the bed. 

A few more things fell, as the last bit of the cabinet crashed against a chest of drawers and the dresser, creams and colognes landing on the floor and jars breaking. One curious looking item suddenly started shooting tennis balls at them. 

“Owww…ouch….what the fuck is that?” Sebastian growled. 

“Yeaow…..oh fuck….that’s my portable….owww…..tennis ball shooter,” Jim replied, dodging some balls, getting hit by some. 

“Why would you even need that?” 

“To shoot at neighbours who are boring and ugly and dreadful.” 

“The fuck set it off?” 

“That damned stupid Oliver of yours.” 

Sebastian glared at Sherlock and picked him up, “That’s it, no more games kitty. You not only watched us having sex, you managed to ensure we can’t have sex for the next seventeen hours. Because that’s how long this damned thing will take to be cleaned up.” 

“Throw it out now,” Jim cried, “I hate it. I only tolerated it because it reminded me a bit about Sherlock.” 

“That’s all I can take, I can take no more,” Sebastian snarled, snapping at the mention of Sherlock’s name, “No more discussions about that confounded detective in this house.” He picked Sherlock up by the tail and when Sherlock scratched at him for being so careless, he yelped and caught him by the neck. “That is it, no more games and no more of feline voyeurism,” the big hunky man walked out of the bedroom and down the staircase, “No more of your cat feet around our house, breaking and dislodging things and shooting tennis balls at us. I thought you were a gift to me but it turns out that you just brought in mayhem. Now out you go and don’t ever come back in here again or Jim will skin you and make a nice furry little bag from you for….for….Irene maybe.” 

He opened the front door, which opened out into a little porch and steps straight down to the street and set the cat down on its feet. “Now off you go.” 

Sherlock heard gasps and giggles and a wolf whistle. 

The gasp was from Sebastian. In his eagerness to get rid of the cat he had stepped out naked with semen on his belly and his cock in a state of half tumescence. As luck would have it, there were six women standing there waiting for a car and they had all seen it. Some of them salivated, some blushed, one let out a lewd whistle. 

Sebastian hollered, “Don’t you respect men at all?” 

The cheeky one replied, “Not ones who parade their great body naked sir!” 

“Seems you’re wasting your fluids,” another one cackled. 

A third one said, “It’s like meeting your favourite porn star in the flesh.” 

Sebastian paled and tried to get back in but he wasn’t looking where he was going so he ran into the wall first, then the door and finally inside. As the door slammed one of the women called out, “Nice ass.” 

Sherlock mentally deduced ‘American, said ass and not arse’ and padded back to the backyard. He waited in the shed for an hour till he became human again, before he pulled on his clothes and sneaked out of the premises like a thief. He was almost out of there when he saw the woman next door getting into the car. Remembering what Sebastian had done, he shot forward and pulled her back. 

“Purse snatcher,” she yelled, “Help.” 

“No,” Sherlock growled, “I am saving your life.” 

Moments later the car blew up but fortunately nobody was hurt. Sherlock exhaled with relief and walked away as quickly as he could while that woman fainted right there at her doorstep. 

***

John came back home to find the cat waiting for him at the doorway to his room. With a huge smile he picked the cat up and kissed its head before nuzzling it with his nose. The feline creature purred and settled into his arms as if he belonged there and put its paws around John’s neck like a human would do when being carried bride-style. “You really are a very cuddly and cute little kitty aren’t you,” he said, “By the way, I was hoping you would be back because I bought some cat food for you, the very best in the market, and we will have a nice little dinner together. You see, Sherlock…my….my….well, he hardly eats or does anything with me aside from solving cases so sometimes it’s nice to have company for more mundane things.” 

He chuckled aloud, “I can’t believe I am talking to a cat.” 

Nonetheless, John went downstairs and served Sherlock the cat food, mixed with some chicken, and served himself a small dish of chicken satay with vegetables. He also poured himself a glass of Bourbon and settled down on a chair with cat Sherlock still on his lap. Sherlock was forced to take a bite of his food and while he was almost retching at the prospect of eating cat-food (Christ, what was going on!), he found that it wasn’t so bad. His feline taste buds were not as developed as his human ones were so he enjoyed the meal somewhat. The texture was good and it didn’t smell of anything. Very neutral and bearable. 

“You know Ace,” John began, “I lie to Sherlock sometimes.” 

“Why?” Sherlock asked. The sound that came out was ‘Graaanw’.

“I used to date a lot of women but of late I don’t date anyone, no women, none at all. I tried to date a man, just to find out how gay men think. By the way….Sherlock is bi leaning on towards gay, no matter how manly and tough he looks.” 

“Don’t label me, it’s so lame,” Sherlock said. Of course he was able to only make the sounds ‘wnnaaw meaow mew meow’. 

“Funny,” John continued, “How you protest exactly how he does! A man in denial is in so much trouble. I was in denial too. I still think boobs are great but all I want is Sherlock.” 

Sherlock choked. He was hearing things! John wanted him. Surely this was not true!!!

“Careful Ace, don’t choke,” John cuddled him, “Eat slowly. So Sherlock….he was fucking Moriarty. Can you believe that? Moriarty! That man will drill through anything, banks, jails, museums, Irene, Sherlock, anything. But he loves only one man, his bestie Sebastian. Seb was in army with me and I thought he was the least likely to be homosexual. But then he met his Jim and….well, they found their happiness. It sometimes bothers me that Sherlock and I know each other for much longer than Moriarty and Moran know one another. Yet they are practically a couple. I even saw them buying underwear together, with pink hearts on them. Crazy stuff but that’s love!” 

“I think I love you too John,” Sherlock said with his cutest expression. The sounds of ‘mew mew mew mew’ didn’t make any sense to John though and he simply picked up his kitty, placed him on the counter next to the sink, and began to wash the dishes. 

***

John was disappointed when he woke up to find the cat gone again but he reconciled himself to the fact that the feline would return to him, like it had returned the night before. Maybe it was a cat that liked to be on its own during the day and come home to roost at night. John didn’t mind, he was fine as long as he had some company in the evenings and nights. Sherlock had been behaving rather strangely of late and even though he was not solving cases he was still absent from the flat for most parts of the day. John missed him but then Sherlock was Sherlock, not possible to predict what he would be up to next. 

He entered the sitting room and squealed. “Jesus H Christ!” 

On the couch lay a very naked Sherlock, on his front, with one slender arm awkwardly folded underneath him and the other long arm dangling over the edge of the couch and touching the rug almost. His pert rosy arse was visible as daylight and his long legs were slightly parted, giving John a peek at his family jewels. The doctor shot out of the room as if stung and leaned against the wall on the landing, panting slightly. Shit, he had an erection. Damn it, he was hard from just seeing his friend sprawled out there naked as the day he was born and blissfully asleep as if that was the most normal thing to do. 

But again, what was normal for others wasn’t normal for Sherlock, therefore, the reverse also held true. 

He backheeled out of there and got hold of a sheet from the linen closet in his room and came downstairs just as Mrs Hudson was about to enter with a tray of tea and biscuits. 

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” John yelped, blocking her path, “I will take it inside Mrs Hudson.” 

“Oh John, I actually like to do this,” the dear old lady said with a smile, “I might say something I am not your housekeeper but then I love looking after my Baker Street Boys.” 

“You don’t get it, entering the flat won’t be appropriate,” John blurted out. 

“Oh I am used to it dear. Sherlock’s untidiness, putting animals in there, the whole place upside down, experiments.” 

“Mrs Hudson you give me that tray and go about your business right now.” 

“Oh all right, okay then, no need to get so uptight about it.” 

***

Sherlock woke up and stretched his arm and legs, burrowing into the soft warmth of the sheet he was wrapped in. The sitting room was flooded with sunlight, which meant it was mid-morning already and the tray of tea and biscuits indicated that Mrs Hudson had served him his morning refreshments. Sheet/Sitting room/Tea/Mrs Hudson - That’s when his brain was hammered with stimulation and realization! Sheet! How did he get wrapped in this sheet! Oh shit, he was human again, oh no, had he fallen asleep as a cat and woken human. In which case he should have woken up naked. Okkkay….deductions, someone saw him naked and covered him with a sheet. Most likely Mrs Hudson since she served tea, but no, this sheet was not hers. She used flowery ones. This was plain….this had to be John. Further deduction, John had seen him naked. 

“Oh God,” he sat up and poured himself some tea, “This is so not good.” 

He had come back home from Moriarty’s house as a human but he was unable to resist spending time with John. The idea of being in close proximity to the man and hearing more of his thoughts was so appealing that he had consumed some more portion and turned himself feline again. It had worked well and he had managed to spend a cosy and lovely evening on his flatmate’s lap and had even been taken to bed later, John’s bed to be precise, where he had fallen asleep. Then he had come downstairs to wait out the last two hours of the feline state and turn human again, so he could get back into his clothes, but he had ended up dozing off on the couch. 

Nah, this was avoidable. 

He drank the tea which was well on the way to becoming lukewarm and crunched down on biscuits. John was nowhere to be seen, maybe he’d gone out to work early. No cases, another boring day ahead unless he wanted to indulge in some more feline adventures. 

Gosh, this was addictive. 

He went for a shower and got into his usual clothes, a smart suit and his trademark light purple shirt, and came back outside to read the paper and tinker around with the instruments in his makeshift lab. He saw a minor incident reported of a car blown up in Belgravia but didn’t read any further. It was so much more fun watching it happen and he had had a grandstand view of it. 

Suddenly someone cleared his throat and he jumped. “Oh John,” he blushed, remembering the sheet. It lay balled up behind the couch now, the couch where John was sitting. He had walked in quietly while Sherlock was lost in thoughts. 

John looked at him suspiciously and asked, “Sherlock, care to tell me what’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mormor done, next step for curious cat Sherlock will be big brother Mycroft's house!


	4. Since when did Mycroft keep a God damned dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock visits big brother and realizes that some things are better left 'un-discovered'
> 
> But not before he gets a scare of his life

Sherlock pretended to be totally unruffled. “What do you mean what’s going on? Have you noticed something of late?” 

“No,” John said, “Actually I haven’t. That is so unusual isn’t it? No cases and yet you aren’t bored or out of your mind with irritation. No bullet holes in the wall, no shouting, you don’t even text me nowadays.” 

A rap on the door with something solid brought their attention to the umbrella wielding tall man standing there. While John smiled easily, Sherlock groaned and made a face. Mycroft Holmes was looking at Sherlock like an eagle, a frown on his normally expressionless face. “Sherlock I thought we had an agreement that you won’t go anywhere near Moriarty and you won’t try to implicate him in any crime,” the elder Holmes said sternly, “He has redeemed himself now and we don’t want to open the Pandora’s box from the past again. Yet there you go, to his Belgravia house, and you blow up his neighbour’s car. Yes, she identified you, you had the decency to warn her not to be in it but that also meant she saw you there.” 

Sherlock felt like smacking that woman at the back of her head. “She saw me there, that doesn’t mean she saw me fixing a short range, strap on low power bomb underneath the chassis of her car…..” 

“Details of what the bomb was, interesting,” Mycroft said coldly. 

John gasped, “Sherlock is that what you were doing when you were away all evening yesterday?” 

“No I was with you…..” Sherlock stopped. How was he going to say ‘I was sitting on your lap as Ace, the cat’. 

“Sorry Sherlock, I won’t lie.” 

“Thanks Dr Watson. So then, brother mine, why are you so intent upon becoming ‘bother mine’?” 

“You have no proof whatsoever that I was behind this. Why doesn’t it strike you that Jim or Sebastian Moran could be the ones who did this? And please, those guys are up to more crimes than they had committed before and somehow you turn a blind eye to them because it’s all organized crime that has a legal face to it. So go on, find out if it’s one of those who planted that bomb there. Besides, that woman invades privacy…she has spied on people around her, her neighbours I mean, with binoculars.” 

Mycroft gave him a strange look, “You have visited Moriarty?” 

“No….not really….no.” 

Mycroft didn’t seem convinced so Sherlock quickly started to defend himself. “Look, I can’t deny that I have been away for long stretches of time in the past two days,” the hapless detective tried to cover up as much as possible, “That’s so I can fetch some rare items and chemicals for my latest experiments and also to connect with my homeless network and my band of cyber hackers and informers. I have also been walking around town, you know, looking for any signs of crime or criminals….just like that.” 

“Whatever you are up to,” Mycroft pointed at Sherlock with his brolly, “Stop it soon or you will have to answer me.” 

As soon as Mycroft left, John began to nag him. “There is something wrong, isn’t there Sherlock? I know you consider me a friend but maybe, just for once, if you consider me as more than a friend and tell me what’s bloody bothering you. I found you sleeping here this morning….naked….as if you had come back from some place weird and not right, like an orgy, or piss-drunk or totally stoned. You have been lurking around Moriarty again and you were found at a scene of crime. Listen to me, I want the best for you, but even I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. I don’t see any signs of crack use….so it has to be something else. What is it?” 

Sherlock gave him a glare and muttered through gritted teeth, “It is nothing John.” 

It is you, always was you, if only you’d tell me you are not so straight after all, if only I could find the God damned words to tell you that I become Ace every night just to lie beside you.

“True friends share everything,” John said sadly. 

“Including sheets?” Sherlock bared his teeth and tried to grin. 

“Not funny.” 

“Sorry.” 

“But I guess Sherlock, you were right about what you said at Dartmoor. You never thought you had friends, not even one. And you won’t have one unless and until you open your eyes and recognize who they are.” 

***

Sherlock was back to his cat avatar again, this time lurking around Mycroft’s house. He was so upset with his big brother having installed cameras inside the house that he had to take his revenge. He wanted to do something naughty in the Mycroft casa, like crap on his dining table, spit into his drink or just ruin his immaculate suits in some way. But there was one problem here. 

Mycroft being Mycroft, there was not even enough space for a fly to get inside his house, it was that well secured. Even a cat couldn’t crawl in. 

In other words Sherlock, having deposited his clothes in the pool house and turned himself feline, had no way to sneak inside the opulent mansion his brother lived in. To make matters worse, the skies were dark, thunder rumbled above and the wind had picked up so badly that his fur was getting all into his eyes and mouth. He needed to get inside some place safe, right away. If not the case he had to make a mad dash back to the pool house and stay there till the storm passed over. 

“Bow wow wow wow bow grrrrrrr.” 

That was it. His rotten luck. Since when did Mycroft keep a God damned dog? The beastly creature came charging at him and in the fraction of a second Sherlock got to deduce, he realized the dog, a Great Dane, belonged to a guest at his brother’s place. Now that was new, he thought as he ran for dear life from that monstrous barking creature, Mycroft was more insulated from the outside world than the inside of a thermos flask. There was no way on earth he would have a house guest and allow them to bring their pet inside too. Mycroft hated pets. He hated them as much as he hated humans and hummus and hero complexes. Okay, that made a nice rhyming list of three! 

Whatever other thoughts he had was squashed out of his head as he landed on the porch and the darn dog landed on top of him. 

“Meow Meaow Meaoooww!” 

“Grrrr…..yip yip yip.” 

The dog was licking him and playing with him. This was worse. He would rather be mauled than played with and covered with dog spit. 

“Let go of me you brute,” Sherlock said in his usual cat language and sounds and bared his claws. Then he scratched the dog across the face and let out a triumphant little cat laughter as the stunned canine ran away, wailing pitifully. 

“What’s going on here?” 

Mycroft’s elderly housekeeper opened the door and Sherlock raced inside, saying a warm and relieved ‘Good afternoon Mrs Durbin’ as he brushed past her. 

“Oh look at you,” the housekeeper picked him up and he realized she hadn’t heard a greeting but a meow from him, perhaps a cutesy one, and she was now cuddling him. Why, oh why did everyone cuddle cats and feed them milk? Cats enjoyed neither of those things. “Do you need something to eat little fellow?” Mrs Durbin asked softly as she shut the door and carried him to the kitchen, “You were afraid of the storm outside were you not? It does look terrible out there.” 

Fortunately for Sherlock, she gave him a nice and juice burger patty to eat and he ate it quickly. He was hungry, he realized, and a tad bit thirsty too. He licked the water she had put into the saucer and licked his lips with satisfaction. 

“Now little kitty,” she whispered, “I can’t take you home with me because I have dogs there. But I will find someone for you by tomorrow morning, someone who can adopt you and look after you really well, like a cute little kitty like you deserves. In this weather, I can’t leave you outside either so I’m afraid there is only one thing to do. You stay in the galley, I shall close the door after leaving some food and water for you. Don’t make too much of a fuss or noise or Mr. Holmes will get to know.” 

Sherlock was secretly pleased. 

Much as he was thankful to this lady for letting him in, he didn’t want her to hold him up because he had a job to do. He had long planned to give Mycroft a taste of his own medicine by spying on him much the same way the big brother kept him under surveillance and intruded into his privacy. So, when the housekeeper left for the day, Sherlock leapt up on the counter, then on a cabinet and after a few tries managed to twist the doorknob and get out of the galley style kitchen to the dining area where he slid under the long cherry coloured dining table stood, flanked by sixteen chairs. He could hear footsteps, someone was coming downstairs and straight for this room. 

Then his whiskers stood up like an electrocuted Tom in a popular Tom and Jerry cartoon. 

This was not Mycroft. 

This was Lestrade. 

And the DI was naked. Butt naked. Nekkid as anyone would be at birth. So, simply naked. 

“Mickey,” Lestrade called out. 

Lestrade has another dog, Sherlock wondered, holding his breath. But a bigger surprise awaited him as Mycroft appeared, dressed in a pair of hideous fluorescent green silk boxers and a jumper that was light yellow with green patches on it. It looked ridiculous, his brother looked hilarious in those outrageous colours, but boy, was Sherlock grateful that he hadn’t appeared as nude as his now confirmed secret lover. 

So Myc was getting it on with Lestrade. The sneaky bully. 

“What’s bothering my Minne,” Mycroft asked, nuzzling Greg Lestrade’s neck. 

Sherlock almost gagged. 

“I am hungry. Where has your housekeeper gone? Have you given her permission to leave early again?” 

“Oh I do that whenever you are here no? Imagine this, if she was around would you be able to walk around the house like this? Though I find you irresistible, I would hate for anyone else to see you in this state of undress.” 

“Mmmm, but I am hungry. You worked me over in every possible way and now I need some proteins and nourishment.” 

“I will make you a sandwich. Why don’t you sit at the table? It won’t take more than five minutes.” 

Sherlock stayed low, right under the table, a few inches away from Greg’s bare feet as he watched Mycroft slither into the kitchen with his reptilian grin intact. Yeah big brother, laugh all you want, you aren’t going to be smiling for too long. I have your secret now haha! He waited and watched as Greg Lestrade kept talking about several things, mostly mundane stuff like the price of vegetables to the last game he had watched live to the beer cocktail a bestie of his had taught him to make. Sherlock was sure this kind of routine talk would probably make Mycroft fall asleep on his feet but horror of horrors, that man was acting totally out of character. He was responding and adding to whatever the DI said to him. 

Mycroft you hypocritical jerk!

“Here you go little darling,” Mycroft placed a plate in front of Lestrade, “Tuck in.” 

“Mmm, you take a bite first.” 

“As you say. Yeah, it’s nice.” 

“How can it be nice till I certify it as nice.” 

“All right Minnie, you take a call then.” 

“It’s really nice!” 

Mycroft looked like a proud whale, sitting down with a flourish next to his naked lover (Sherlock still found it gross, one naked friend from Scotland Yard and a silly boxer clad brother who he didn’t remember in anything but three piece suits for most of their adult lives). He was almost gagging from all the sugary words being exchanged between the two older men when one topic suddenly came up, making his feline ears shoot up at a ninety-degree angle. 

“How is it going with Sherlock?” Greg Lestrade asked. 

“Being a pain in the arse as usual,” Mycroft said with a snort, “I was hoping that when Moriarty retires and settles down with his sniper, who was always his true love, Sherlock will give up his little game and littler affair with that madman and settle down with John. Now that’s a man I approve of. Sherlock doesn’t know but I sent John his way, arranged for Mike Stamford to introduce him to Sherlock so they become flat mates and eventually friends and partners. By the way…..John doesn’t know about this either.”

Sherlock covered his cat mouth with cat paws. Whaaaat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mystrade seems a little creepy here but that's only because it's Sherlock's POV and who the hell finds his big brother's sex life interesting :D


	5. Jawwwn I can explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets caught

Greg Lestrade seemed as shocked as Sherlock was! “You what?” He asked, talking with his mouth full, “Does Sherlock know?” 

“He is slow, especially when it comes to understanding people,” Mycroft snickered, “His intelligence ends with deductions, his bravery is limited to cases and his emotions are so unhinged that he builds walls around him to protect himself from hurt. Poor little bro.” 

Greg Lestrade nodded while Sherlock fumed. He had been called slow, emotional fool, a coward in social situations, practically he had been called a dick without the word being used. His blood boiled and his tail was erect, ready to lash at anything he found in his way. That’s it, that’s all I can take, I can take no more! He padded quietly towards his brother and was about to scratch Mycroft’s bare foot with his sharp claws, totally out of spite, when Greg suddenly stretched his legs and Sherlock’s paw brushed his foot instead. Greg giggled and looked at Mycroft who initially didn’t understand what was going on but when his boyfriend kept smiling and looking at him, he tilted his head and asked, “What is it?” 

“For someone with perfect hair on hands and chest, your foot is exceedingly hairy.” 

“No, what are you saying. It’s scientifically impossible for a man to have more hair on his legs than his arms, now let me explain one theory….” 

“It’s okay Mickey, I believe you. I always do.” 

“Awww my Minnieeeeeehowwww!” Sherlock had scratched his foot. 

Greg Lestrade jumped and looked at Mycroft innocently, “What happened love? You look like someone drove a knife into you.” 

“Um….Minnie,” Mycroft said a bit awkwardly, “You need to trim your nails….I mean the nails on your feet….toenails.” 

“They are trimmed,” Greg was taken aback, “And I didn’t even touch your foot. Mickey, are you all right baby? Can I kiss it better?” 

Mycroft stood up and pulled Greg on to his feet as well and Sherlock watched with gaping eyes as the two men kissed and Mycroft whispered silly stuff, saying he was the one with the foot fetish hence he would be kissing Greg’s foot later when they went back to bed. It gave Sherlock such grim yet vivid imagery in his head that he had to do a loud ‘phuaaack’. And with every word the two men uttered, Sherlock gagged similarly. However, the only sound that came out of him was ‘meow’. 

Mycroft: Greg my love, my Minnie  
‘Meow’  
Mycroft: My little darling, my world  
‘Meow’

Mycroft jerked back from the embrace and looked sternly at Greg who stared back at him in confusion. “Look, I am trying to be cuddly and trying to initiate some intimacy with you, hoping we could do another round maybe on this dining table and test its strength, and all you can do is make a joke out of it? That’s not nice Minnie.” 

Greg rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? I can’t understand when you’re being playful and when you’re serious! You are the one going ‘Greg Meow and My Darling Meow’ for a while now.” 

The two men had the same thought at the same time and bent down and checked under the table. Caught all of a sudden, Sherlock in his cat state looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle and stepped back a few paces. Then Greg Lestrade’s face broke into a huge smile while Mycroft looked horrified and shot across the room, trying to stay as far away from the feline creature as possible. “Keep it away from me Greg,” he panicked, “I am allergic to cat fur. I can’t….can’t stand it, mum had one and I had to kill and bury it….keep it away…keep it away before I kill it like I killed Ginger.” 

Greg picked cat Sherlock up in his arms. Sherlock winced at that. Greg was still naked. This felt so wrong, being pressed against his naked skin. It was hard enough to imagine this man in bed with his brother and now to be held against his naked chest, his chest hair mingling with his cat fur, it was way too much. He snuffled and meowed softly, protesting as he tried to break free of the hold. Greg Lestrade found that cute though. 

“C’mon Mickie, it’s so cute, look how innocent it is. Can we keep it?” 

“No….naa..aaah….aaah…atchoooo!” 

“Please Mickie.” 

“Atch…atchoooo!” 

“Okay, you are always in a better mood when you have fucked me thoroughly. So how about we settle this in bed. I am sure you can take some medications for your allergy.” 

“No way…choooo…..I can’t stand cats….atchooo….that thing makes me wheezy and weak and aaah….aaaah….ATCHOOOO!” 

As if to prove how violently sick he could get, the flower vase in front of Mycroft fell from the impact of his monstrous sneeze and shattered to pieces. Greg relented a little but he was clearly not giving up yet. 

“All right then, I will put him in the closet while we do our thing and then we will talk.” 

Sherlock was gobsmacked! No, no no no, no way was he going to be in the closet and hear his brother moan through his orgasm. Nobody wanted to know the intimate details of their sibling’s sex life. Shit, he had made a mistake, he should have never come here. 

But then he had hardly expected to find a hidden lover here and Mycroft getting so randy with them. 

He was placed in the closet and the door was slammed on his nose as the two men began to get intimate in bed. Sherlock tried to stuff his paws into his ears, tried to think about past cases, tried to close his eyes and imagine it was Sebastian and Jim and not his brother and that DI but nothing worked. With every creak and thump of the bed and the headboard, every moan and grunt he heard, he felt nauseated to the bone and utterly horribly ridiculously squeamish. 

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and screamed out. ‘Let me out you two, I have had enough, heard enough, I will give you everything, anything you want, I will never complain about Mycroft’s surveillance or refuse a case he has asked me to look into. I will never forget Lestrade’s first name is Greg, Gregory, yes Gregory, and I will help him any time of the day or night with any case. I will even tolerate Donovan and Anderson in spite of their pot plant IQ’s and I won’t take drugs. I will never take drugs, won’t touch a needle again, please oh please let me out. Mercy, pity, begging you, let me out of this closet, I wanna go hoooooome!’

‘Meaow maaaow mew meow meow meaooowww graaaaanw waaaanw grrrrraaaaann mew mew mew meaowwwwwwww’

“Bloody Christ,” Mycroft exclaimed, looking in annoyance at the closet. 

“I think the cat is homophobic,” Greg said, legs still wrapped around Mycroft. 

“Don’t give me reasons supporting his reaction Greg, get him out of here. I can’t do this with your little kitty playing his Philharmonic Orchestra in the closet.” 

“I guess you’re right. He hasn’t warmed up to you much.” 

“I don’t want him to. Now get rid of that thing. He irritates me as much as Sherlock does sometimes.” 

“Mycroft, you love Sherlock.” 

The older man sighed and sat up, disengaging from his lover. “You are right about that. I do love him, always have. You know why I keep an eye on him, I do that because I worry sometimes that he will hurt himself. Once I was asked to keep an eye on him when he was just five and I neglected my duties and went off to play cricket with my mates. He climbed a tree and fell from it, breaking his arm. Whenever I see him in any distress I remember that day, that totally horrible day when he was brought home with his arm in a cast. He is my baby brother, I always have his back, it’s just that….” 

Greg gave him a knowing look. 

“I can’t tell him so. We are not made like that. We are the Holmes family.” 

The cat noises had stopped. 

“Let me release the kitty,” Greg Lestrade said, “And I love you Mycroft.” 

***

Sherlock walked down the wet sidewalk, lost in his thoughts. Mycroft’s words towards the end had stunned him into silence and sent him deep inside a head space of memories. The man was not half as bad as Sherlock always thought him to be and on more than one occasion he had saved Sherlock’s arse whenever he needed to be bailed out. But the detective had never thanked him for that, he had only retorted with arrogance and a condescending statement to keep his nose out of Sherlock’s affairs. The more he thought, the more he realized that he too loved and adored Mycroft in his own way. Being a Holmes, being nice to each other was limited to being civil with each other. Unlike other families they had never been demonstrative. 

God, did he feel guilty now!

A cab passed by and splashed muddy water on him. He shouted out at the cab, ended up meowing pathetically instead and almost got run over by the next cab. He hadn’t realized he had sauntered on to the road at some stage. As the cab screeched to a halt inches from his head, he heard a door open and close and a very familiar voice exclaim ‘Oh my God, it’s you isn’t it?’ Cracking a cat eye open, he looked straight into the worried eyes of John Watson, his John, the man he had wronged as much as he had felt wronged by Mycroft. He loved John but had always neglected to show him or tell him that. 

“Ace, you okay buddy?” John asked, carefully picking him up. 

“Hey man,” the cabbie shouted, “Get back in. I can’t park in the middle of the road.” 

“Just a second,” John replied, “C’mon kitty, we are going home. And I am not letting you out of my sight again.” 

Sherlock vaguely remembered that he had forgotten his clothes at Mycroft’s pool house, that he was going to change back in maybe two hours at the most, that he would be naked when that happened, but all thoughts flew out of his head as he settled into John’s lap inside the cab. It was warm and he felt protected and loved, just like he always felt whenever John was around. Damn his foolish self for not seeing that before. 

He fell asleep, lulled by John’s voice whispering to him and the movements of the car. 

***

When he woke up he was in hot water. Like literally in hot water. John was giving him a bath in the tub. It was the bathroom attached to John’s bedroom and Sherlock didn’t remember being brought here, so he must have slept rather heavily in the cab.

He remembered those times when he had fallen asleep on the couch or the kitchen table and woken up safely tucked into bed. It had been John then, it was John now, it had always been John. 

“There there there kitty, you are a brave little kitty are you not,” John meticulously cleaned him, rubbing through his fur and ears and paws and getting rid of the dirt he had accumulated from his ‘rain-walk’ a while ago, “I know you have a fiercely independent streak in you and you like to be alone but maybe you should keep someone close to you who loves you, wants to look after you and can help you when you need some assistance.” His voice grew wistful, “All you have to do is ask.” 

Sherlock was already weepy. This whole cat thing was causing havoc to his hormones, he was disoriented from the events of the past few hours, emotions were running high and he trembled all over from nerves. Suddenly, with a near sickening force, he remembered that he was due to become human any moment now. Time was almost up and he had that funny tingling feeling in his chest and a corresponding mild ache in his head, the signal that his feline self was now slowly reverting to his human self. But but but John, he was with John, the whole ‘restore to factory settings’ aspect would happen right under the man’s nose and he would be caught…..

He tried to wiggle away. “NO,” John said firmly and held on to him tightly, “No getting away this time. I need to dry you or you’ll catch a cold.” 

‘Meaaaowww’ 

“Nope, no use. Don’t give me those pleading green eyes thing. You look just like Sherlock when you make those baby eyes at…..” 

That was the moment!

One second John was holding the cat in his arms and the next second he was suddenly holding Sherlock. A naked and wet Sherlock. 

A sound between a yelp and a curse came from him and due to the natural reaction to a suddenly increased weight in his arms, he almost dropped the detective on the floor. But John was John, a tougher man than most could even imagine, and he arrested that fall very efficiently by going down on one knee and taking the impact on his knee cap. But he saved Sherlock from a fall and held on to him tightly despite his abject shock at this incident. 

“Sher…..Sherlock….” 

“Jawwwn, I can explain.” 

John set him down and Sherlock scooted to the right and wrapped a towel around his middle. In the meantime John had already pinched himself hard and yelled, “FUCK I am not dreaming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, Johnlock smut shall be served fresh in the concluding chapter of this series. Thanks for all the kudos, comments and hits!


	6. I loved Ace but I think I like Sherlock much better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JohnLock at last and closure for all

“Sherlock,” John panted from nerves and shock, “You better have a good explanation for this. You just….just freaked me out. Me! ME! I have seen a lot, I was in the army for crying out loud, and I nearly had a heart attack from seeing you….wait….where is Ace?” 

“John please let’s go to your room and sit down, give me something to wrap around my ehm, my body…it’s a little cold,” Sherlock begged. 

John nodded but eyed Sherlock suspiciously as he walked to the bedroom and fetched one of his robes. Sherlock wrapped it around himself awkwardly as John turned away a little, trying to give him his privacy. Not that the privacy meant anything anymore, John had seen every inch of him merely minutes ago. The great detective sat on the edge of the bed and patted a spot close to him, pleading to his friend with huge eyes, and like many times before John succumbed to the Sherlockian charm and aura. He couldn’t resist Sherlock. He wouldn’t say no to Sherlock no matter what kind of outrageous thing that man did around him or to him. 

“How?” John asked. 

“I was experimenting with some newly discovered substances and cat blood and suddenly this happened. I didn’t plan it John.” 

“So that explains why Ace….you are Ace right?” 

“Yes, yes I was.” 

“So that explains why the cat….I mean you…..I mean Ace kept appearing and disappearing. But why Sherlock why? Once this happened and you came back to your human avatar, why on earth did you try to experiment on yourself again? What if there had been some kind of permanent damage? What if you couldn’t have turned back to your human form again?” 

“It was addictive at first,” Sherlock admitted, “But eventually it proved to be a necessity. A boon. A doorway to realizations that so far hadn’t even been on my horizon, let alone my level. Cat Sherlock has learned so much that human Sherlock can use…..to set things right.” 

“Sherlock,” John reddened considerably, “I said so many things. It’s very unkind of you to let me go on and on when I had no idea who I was talking to. Listen, most of the stuff you can delete from your memory like you did with the information on planets okay?” 

“On the contrary,” Sherlock whispered, “I won’t.” 

John looked at him, wide eyed. No John don’t. Don’t hope. Hope gives you the biggest disappointments. He is just going to show sympathy. 

“I won’t because I feel the same,” Sherlock said shyly, looking down at his folded hands on his lap. 

When there was no response from John he looked up, thinking he had been a bit too forward and John was perhaps not going to approve of this statement. But what he saw was a glassy eyed John who had a goofy grin on his face and slightly flushed cheeks. He looked happy, fulfilled, excited. Deduction – He shared Sherlock’s feelings. Secondary deduction – He was hoping for this answer. Tertiary Reasoning – He doesn’t regret his chats with Cat Sherlock because human Sherlock finally told him things that he had been waiting to hear. 

“Oh Jawwn,” Sherlock said softly, “I wish I was not so….weird….” 

“You are weird, of course you are,” John laughed in sheer happiness, “But you are my kind of weird you dumbass, I like your weird.” With that he leaned closer and pulled Sherlock forward so their foreheads rested together. Giving the still awkward detective time to reconsider, he spent some time gently stroking the taller man’s stubble covered cheeks and long neck as they stayed together in that close and intimate position. When Sherlock lifted his chin and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fluttering shut, John took the cue and pressed their lips together. Finally, finally they kissed and John was pleasantly surprised to find out that Sherlock was actually kissing him back. 

***

John was hoping this was not a dream. A painful reality would be waiting in the end, telling him pointedly that he had been a dunce to think Sherlock could be ‘his’. But every single time he opened his eyes as they made love, he saw a warm, alive, very-much-there Sherlock writhing beneath him and clinging to him with his long gangly arms and legs. God this felt so good. 

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Sherlock complained, “Yeaaah right there!” 

John smiled broadly as he pushed in deeper inside the detective, holding his legs apart and plunging into him again and again. He had heard from people that when someone nurtured a dream too long, way too long, when that became a reality even that reality felt like a dream. That was exactly how he felt as he ravished the man he had fallen in love with but never managed to admit how much, a beautiful but dream-like reality where nothing else mattered other than this men, this bed and this moment. 

And the noises Sherlock was making! Those delicious delectable noises which were enough to make him get off right away. 

“Close,” he warned as he felt his balls tighten and familiar warmth begin to spread in his groin. 

“Yeaaah,” Sherlock arched his back, grabbing one of his hands and hooking his ankle over John’s shoulder so the sandy haired man could keep a hand free to touch him, “Please Jawwnn I need…..!” 

He didn’t say the words but John had never needed words to understand what Sherlock wanted. He grabbed the man’s weeping erection and started to stroke him in twisting motions, giving the head a few playful rubs and eliciting keening cries from the detective. 

It worked and Sherlock suddenly raised his head, eyes wide and mouth open. The beautiful face contorted in pleasure and the man’s body was besieged by spasms as he cried out, “I am going to cum, I can’t stop it!” 

“Don’t even try to deny yourself Sher,” John said, “Let go, just let go and let it happen. I got you, I always got you!” He watched with eyes agape as Sherlock instantly came all over himself and John’s hands, shooting enough load to show how long pent-up his passions were. His entire body undulated and he let out a series of loud groans, arms smacking and scratching at anything he could reach. Noose-tight contractions around his member made John grunt out with every thrust he made, chasing his own orgasm now which showed all the promises to be the biggest one he had ever had. He didn’t care if he had just turned gay, or turned gay the day he had fallen for Sherlock, all he cared was about finally getting the man he had wanted for years now. 

He came so hard that he lost the powers of sight and speech for a while. Waves of pleasure so high and powerful that he helplessly drowned in them, emptying himself inside his lover who was still riding out his aftershocks. 

Minutes passed and they stayed in bed, lying on their backs next to each other. John kept a hand on Sherlock’s thigh and Sherlock kept his hand on John’s hand on his thigh. It felt good to be connected. 

“Did…did you really….” 

“Yes Sher, I did. I loved it.” 

“I liked it too. We can do this as often as Jim and Sebastian do it?” 

“What?” 

“Or Mycroft and Lestrade?” 

“Mycroft? Lestrade? Sherlock you do have a very poor sense of timing do you know that? Here we are, finally intimate and sharing a bed, and you talk about that retired criminal and my army buddy and then about your elder brother and the DI? What’s wrong with you?” 

Sherlock sat up, eye glowing, the smile of a mischievous child on his face. “You have no idea what cat Sherlock found out in the last two days.”

John sat up, “You did? What is it? Tell me everything.” 

***

“Oh man, that is fascinating,” John said after hearing out Sherlock’s story, looking pretty much out of it still, “So many discoveries, some good, some not so good, some enlightening, some you wish you had never seen or heard.” 

“I nearly died listening to my brother and his lover in bed,” Sherlock grimaced. 

The doctor stroked Sherlock’s hairs as his lover lay with his head resting on John’s thigh. “I have something to say here Sher. What you have discovered, however fun or downright comedic they might be, they were also very revealing and private things about those individuals. I am not sure we should even let them know how much we know or give them an impression that we intend to use this information against them. Now that you know Moriarty has his human side, his biggest weakness is the man who once worked for him and killed for him, what’s the point in calling it out when they have found their peace and happiness in that world. We know Mycroft has his odd way of handling things but now that you know why he does what he does, there is no way we should embarrass him for that.” 

Sherlock smiled, a smile that made John’s heart melt into a puddle in his chest. A smile only for him. “I know John. I just wanted someone I respect and trust to validate it.” 

“And I am that?” 

“You have always been that.” 

“Also Sherlock….” 

“Yes?” 

“Throw that concoction away. I loved Ace but I think I like Sherlock much better.” 

“Done.” 

***

Sherlock and John were enjoying a brunch the next morning, after a night of love and sleeping through the morning, when the door slammed open noisily and in burst Moriarty and Mycroft. Both were scowling and looked ready to bite. 

“Ouch,” John anticipated war. 

Sherlock gave them a wide grin and a nod. Mycroft was the first one to speak. “Sherlock whatever you say after we speak can be and will be held against you. So re-consider your replies before you give them. I found your clothes and shoes in my pool house this morning and day before yesterday you were seen outside Jim’s house and he found your footprints in the shed in his backyard. What is going on exactly?” 

“Not just that,” Jim elbowed his way ahead, “There were cat pawprints around his footprints. And a cat suddenly landed up in our house.” 

“A cat came into our house as well,” Mycroft added. 

“Where is his robot cat you built,” Jim demanded, hands on his hips, “You are using it to spy on us isn’t it? Did it have a recording device inside it? How much do you know?” Mycroft paled at that and added, “Sherlock, if there are tapes….” 

John closed his eyes and prayed. This was not going too well. But Sherlock was unflappable and answered in his deadpan voice. “It’s true that I was there but there was no cat robot with me and there are no tapes or recordings with me. I was definitely trying to keep an eye on your guys so you know how it feels to have yourself under surveillance.” At that both Jim and Mycroft stared at the floor, John noted. Sherlock went on, “Believe me, no malice intended, no hidden agenda at all, it was pure curiosity. I wish you and Lestrade the best Myc and Jim, while I will always cherish the fact that you were my first, I have found my happiness with John now. And Sebastian is the perfect man for you.” 

Jim scowled. Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground. Sherlock knew and he was denying what he knew. They had no comebacks to that, which made them both squirm.

“What,” Sherlock said, “You guys have a life don’t you? Nowhere to go?” 

“Yes,” Mycroft said, “We certainly do.” 

“Myc,” Sherlock said, “Thanks for everything you have done for me. I will try to be a better younger brother from now on. Jim, stay in touch, we can still discuss cases and constellations and many more things.” 

“Let’s go,” Jim said, looking vaguely discomforted, “I think he is unwell. He will regret all he has said just now. Give it a few hours.” 

Mycroft left wordlessly, a strangely serene look on his face. As Jim turned to follow him out of the flat, Sherlock smacked him playfully on the arse and whispered, “Nice one.” 

Jim growled and showed him the middle finger before he left. As soon as the door had fallen shut behind them, John grabbed his arm, “What was that? You touched his derriere! You touched a man’s tushy, the same man you had a dirty and brief little affair with, someone you still fancy a little. Now don’t give me any lies here because I know.” 

“He kicked me there when I was a cat, I just returned the favour politely.” 

“Sherlock!!!” 

“Okay okay, no more touching Moriarty’s derriere….any man’s derriere, sorry John. Jim is my past, you are my present and future. I shall never forget. From now on I will only touch your arse and nobody else’s.” 

The doctor pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips, tasting tea and toothpaste and a hint of toast on Sherlock’s tongue. He ran his fingers through the unruly curls and whispered, “You are mine.” 

Sherlock nodded and whispered, “Only yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone. Feline Sherlock wishes you a good week ahead!

**Author's Note:**

> Total utter crack. Catverse, felineworld, slapstick comedy. Don't drink water while reading. Don't get grossed out please! Enjoyyyy!


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